On some mornings, before the sun peeks over the horizon, I can hear them honking a mile away as they fly from their roosting location to a small lake near my home in the oak woodland foothills, south of Yosemite National Park. When the flock lands on the water, they set in motion a small tidal wave across the placid water. They spend the day on the water, along the shoreline, and lounging on the surrounding park grass.

Even when they are not present, you know they have been here because of the “calling cards” they distribute across every inch of grass. An adult Canada Goose can produce between one to three pounds each day. During spring and summer you really have to watch where you step. You know what I’m talking about, right? 

Canada Geese are attracted to three things: water, open space where they can keep an eye out for predators, and lots of grass to consume. They don’t need any human-supplied handouts, winter or summer. It's best not to feed them, unless you want more calling cards to clean up. They don’t have teeth, but a row of serrated cartilage growing on the beak is designed to grip and mow the grass.

During morning walks this past April, I noticed a pair of Canada Geese in the same location on a secluded edge of the lakeshore. Geese nest on the ground, so I was pretty sure a nesting was in process. There is not much work involved; all that is needed is a shallow depression to fill with down and other feathers.

The goose selects the site and does the nest preparation. She also bears full responsibility for incubating the eggs. The gander’s role is to stand watch nearby throughout the approximately 24-32 days of egg incubation. That said, other than those first few days of site preparation, the gander never seemed to be around when I passed by.

During an unusual April heat wave with 90º + temperatures, I worried about that lone goose: she looked pretty forlorn, all alone in that quiet corner of the lakefront. I did see her go into the water one afternoon for about fifteen minutes, but other than that moment, I never saw her leave the nest.

I had marked my calendar for day twenty-four of incubation. Beginning then, I stopped by my observation spot both in the morning and in the evening. The eggs could hatch anytime now, and I didn’t want to miss the action.

A few days went by, then another, and another. The goose remained on the nest. Did I miscalculate the arrival date of fuzzy little goslings? Were these eggs not fertile? Would the hen abandon the nest? I didn’t know what to expect since this was the first goose nest that I had observed.

On the morning of day thirty, finally, the scene had changed. There were now two geese present; the gander had returned. “Today is the day of the goslings,” I told myself. I settled down on the granite shelf across the cove where I had an unobstructed view of the birds. With great anticipation, I waited and watched.

From time to time, the goose stood up, looked around, and nudged her beak into the down pillow beneath her. I couldn’t see any eggs. The gander, about four feet away, also stood up and took a few steps. That’s when I saw the chicks. There they were, two of them, in the grass beside the gander. Yes! The goslings had finally hatched. While I didn’t witness the break out, the chicks could only be hours old. Good enough for me.

Precocial birds like geese and ducks are fully developed upon hatching. They don’t have flight feathers, but once their natal down is dry, and after some rest, they are able to forage and swim; the sooner, the better for their safety.

I watched with curiosity as the gander descended the slope to the water’s edge; he peered around the cove, then returned to the goslings. The goose also rose; she sauntered up to the top of the knoll, scanned the surroundings, and returned to the nest.

Assured that the coast was clear, the gander trundled down to the water, the goslings in tow taking awkward, tentative steps. I fully expected the hatchlings to trip and tumble head over heels as they descended the steep slope to the water, but that didn’t happen. Still, wading through tall vegetation and climbing over protruding tree roots is not an easy task for a web-footed new-born with legs only 1” long.

Video:

Once in the water, though, it was full speed ahead for the feathered flotilla. I was surprised at how quickly the goslings were able to paddle. Both adults were vigilant for possible dangers. Paddling with aggressive forward head movements, they surveyed the shore, the water around them, and the sky above for predators while they guided the goslings to a nearby mudflat for rest and acclimation to their new world.

Video:

With the geese now out of sight, I returned to the nest to photograph the broken egg shells. Imagine my surprise when I found a third egg! It wasn’t in the nest; rather, it was lying a few feet away. There was a small opening in which I discerned what appeared to be a partially developed bill.

Was this a failed hatching? Had the opening been made from an inside or outside force? Who pushed the egg out of the nest? 

One day later, I returned to find the egg broken apart, and the embryo eaten.

The next morning, I found the two-day old goslings on an opposite shore, grooming themselves, and taking brief naps.

Video:

Over the course of the next several weeks, I watched the goslings grow larger, stronger, and more independent. They molted and developed the same feather coloring of adults. I’ve now lost track of them, as they are no longer the adorable, yellow fuzzballs that captured my heart when they first hatched.

p.s. If you are not already on my mailing list and wish to be added for future posts, please send an email to: robertgroos1@gmail.com. Your information will not be shared, and you can unsubscribe at anytime. Thank you.